


The Diary of Tom Riddle

by PotterProject



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diary/Journal, Other, Prequel, Tom Riddle's Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 13:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13191435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterProject/pseuds/PotterProject





	The Diary of Tom Riddle

_ He walked into the shop. The door closing behind him as he ever so solemnly made his way over to the section he was looking for. His eyes met those of the shopkeeper. The little boy had known what he  was looking for even before setting foot in the dark little boutique. He soon found what he wanted, and walked slowly over to the man behind the counter, asking him to make an engravement on the front of both books. Tom Marvolo Riddle. After that, he left rather quickly, two notebooks in his hand as he surely made it back to the school.  _

_ As the young boy would soon come to realise, journaling was not an easy task.  _

_ He thought back to the little girl at the orphanage, Mildred, and her words. In frustration he put the books in the desk drawer and never looked back. At least not for a very, very long time. By the time he did pick up the journal again, he had grown quite a bit. Had you known him, you’d be surprised by the young Tom Riddle even thinking about the journals again, after having dismissed them such a long time ago. But he had started planning, and he soon found that the journals might come to great use. And so he started his diary. The diary of Tom Riddle. _

 

_ * * * _

  
  
  


Chapter 1

 

Monday, April 26

About a while ago I first heard about diaries. It was when I was staying at that awful place, the orphanage. Some of the children had books that they wrote in, and kept the books in privacy. When I once took one from that girl Mildred, she yelled at me saying what she writes in there is for her only. I asked her, ”Then why on earth would you write something if no one is supposed to read it? What a waste of time.” I remember her looking at me strangely and rolling her eyes. ”Don’t you have thoughts in your head that you don’t want to share with anyone else? Well, like this, you put your thoughts on paper so they won’t disappear, and you would still be the only one knowing about them.” I only replied with ”rubbish” but what Mildred said stayed in my mind for some reason. So here I am, a time later, writing. Sometimes I might get thoughts that are utterly interesting, frankly, I get interesting thoughts so often that I mostly forget about them. One of those thoughts could be ways to obtain an eternal life. I have asked some of my professors and fellow students of different ways to live forever, but they don’t seem to understand. If you ask me, they are stupid, all of them. Only those with empty minds accept that one day they are going to die. ”It’s natural, dying.” they say. The way I see it, if we are brought into this world, why would we ever leave it? It’s a test that most people fail. I seem to be the only one to understand that dying is for the weak, which I am not so surprised being alone in thinking. After all, no one is a as bright as me. It disgusts me how people worry about other stuff such as paying bills or winning a quidditch game, and when I ask a question such as ”don’t you want to live forever?” they look at ME strangely.

 

So yes, this could be a way for me to remember things I’ve heard of, by writing them down here. I can also write down things that other children would talk to each other about, simply because I have no one to talk to myself. I’ve tried multiple times, but somehow, if possible, they only dislike me more. Such as that one time in the orphanage when Millicent and Jonah told me that both of them are fascinated by snakes. It was the first thing I had in common with anyone, I would like to believe. When I then brought them down to the cave and showed them how I can call on the snakes that live there, Millicent and Jonah screamed… The feeling that reached my stomach was something I never want to feel again! There I was, sharing my talents and interests with them. Probably the first and last time I genuinely smiled, and they ran from me. Like I was a monster, when all I did was talk to the snakes and make them obey every word of mine. Never mind, I don’t need other people anyways, I’m the important one. Although, it would be nice to not feel so bloody lonely at times.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday, May 18

It is another day at Hogwarts. As usual it’s filled with happy halfbloods, and if possible even worse, muggleborns. I can’t believe how they still let them go here. It is a disgrace! Anyhow, I was down in the library searching for eternal life, when I came across the book Secrets of the Darkest Art. As soon as I opened it, I felt as if I found what I was searching for. After turning the pages for a while, I found everything one needs to know about horcruxes. How to make them and what it means. I instantly thought that I need to take this book with me. The book belonged at the back of the library, the Restricted Section. The section no one was supposed to look in. After having unnecessary conversations with the librarian about people ruining their lives through horcruxes and it being a sin, she demanded I give the book back and return to my room. I managed to take it with me by putting a spell on another book that made the two of them look similar. Ever since I got back to my room, I have been reading it all night. The more I read it, the more I feel the magic that is hidden within each page I turn. The more I read it, the darker it seems to get. Horcruxes really are an interesting way of obtaining a never ending life. It’s so dark, maybe even a little too dark for my taste. I do not think I have the courage to do this, splitting my soul? What if it goes wrong and I accidentally kill myself? Splitting one’s soul sure sounds life threatening. In a way, it is. To cast the spell and perform the ritual, I have to kill someone. Someone’s life has to be in my hands, and I have to take it. Will I ever be able to do such a thing? Snap out of it, boy! Of course you can, you knew that there would be sacrifices involved. People should be honoured to die for you to have eternal life.

 

* * *

  
  


_ The notion of splitting his soul was festering in, the now not so little Tom Riddle. Or perhaps festering is the wrong word for this occasion. Growing on him would be more fitting, as this thought is something Riddle more than welcomes. His obsession with the book he stole from the library, the Restricted Section nonetheless, spread like a parasite in his mind. Oh, but you see, Tom was clever, disguising another book as the one he was in fact stealing. All this research into Horcruxes and the creation of one has set off something in Riddle’s brain. He had gone from fascinated by the Dark Arts to completely overthrown, obsessed, consumed, almost possessed by it. Obsessed, by the possibility of becoming immortal. He read the book time and time again. Pondering over the art of making the Horcrux. The most gruesome of actions. The most horrid of spells. To create a Horcrux, an innocent life has to be take, their blood used in the process. The sheer splitting of the soul itself, is not the prettiest of sights, I’ll have you know. It is indeed an ordeal, the creation of a Horcrux, and to think that the not so little Riddle will come to want to create seven of them.  _

_ Still obsessed by the Horcruxes, he has now moved on to research on his own family history.  _

_ His heritage. Through extensive digging, grasping at all the straws visible, the not so little Riddle was sure to realise that he, and he alone, was the heir of no other than the great Salazar Slytherin. I’ll have you know, Salazar Slytherin was not only a great wizard, the greatest of his time, some would argue. He was also one of the four founders of Hogwarts. The more Tom thought about it, the more sense it made. He had never thought, before coming to Hogwarts, that the ability to talk to snakes was a rare one. But being the heir of Slytherin, it only makes sense that the not so little Riddle is a Parselmouth, just as Salazar Slytherin had been. As you know, he has already started planning. He has now decided. He is going to open the Chamber of Secret. If he is the true heir of Slytherin, it will show itself to him. Rest assured, it’ll open. On second thought, rest uneasy, it will be opened.   _

 

_ * * *  _

  
  


Friday, June 9

I feel so torn, like there are two sides of me. It is so disturbing, I just want this feeling to vanish. To ease my mind off of things, I have been doing some research. This week, I discovered how to cast a spell that connects my thoughts to my diary. I no longer have to write in it, writing is for those without power. Now, I can document whenever I feel like it. This can come in handy when I am returning to the Chamber of Secrets. I can’t afford holding a pen while I am investigating, besides, I am rarely alone in there, so someone will most likely interrupt me. Such as last time, with that mudblood Myrtle. There I was, all mesmerised by the glory and mystery of the Chamber’s entrance, when she showed up. Like the loner she is, it does not surprise me that she spends most of her days in the bathroom. None of the other children seem to bother with her. Indeed, I understand them, she is extremely good in minding others business. On the other hand, I sympathise with her. Even though the other children drive her away, she persists. Even though she has experienced such hatred from others, I feel like she can see the good in me that not even I can see. ”Why are you doing something that you really don’t want to do, what are you trying to prove?” were the words she said to me, when I asked who’s there. I sense that she can see right through me. I wonder if she has been watching me, maybe the cries that I hear every time I’m there belongs to her. The crying and the sobbing that drives me away from the girls bathroom repeatedly.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday, June 13

Here I am again, looking at the entrance. For some reason I haven’t noticed the snakes engraved in it, or maybe it is the first time they appear to me. They whisper to me, so I whisper back. When I do this, everything around me seems to fade away and the sinks split and descend into the floor. Up rises a gigantic beast. The largest snake I have ever seen. It looks me in the eye, and bows. ”You have been awaited, sir.” it says. I am speechless, scared, and yet I feel this bond between me and the snake, who introduced itself as the Basilisk. It follows me with every step that I take, and I feel so special. So chosen. Suddenly, I hear a sigh and the cracking sound of a door knob turning. ”Excuse me… This…” says a girl’s voice, and then nothing. Without me realising it, I directed the Basilisk to take place in front of me. Suddenly, the girl fell to the floor, breathless, bleeding from the head. It was Myrtle. What have I done? I killed the girl, oh no, why did I do that? Oh snap out of it boy, do you not realise this is your opportunity to take her blood? Without my knowledge, my hand slipped into my pocket, and there was a little potion bottle. I walked over to her, and took out the vial. ”Accio blood drop”, I whisper. I look around the snake is nowhere to be found. 

 

* * *

 

I quietly closed the chamber, took my belongings and stood nervously watching nearby while they came to take away Myrtle’s body from school grounds. Something in me still felt responsible for her death, but the more I squeezed the bottle with her blood, the more it felt like she did me a favour. Now all I need is a quiet place where I can perform the ritual. Yes, I am going to go through with this, I have to, now that a life has been taken. I keep on walking around school, and all of the sudden I find myself at the highest tower of Hogwarts. It is empty and quiet here, this is perfect. I look at her blood one last time, open the bottle and drink it. ”Anima Mea Immortalem”, the second i pronounce the words, my body stretches and suddenly I am out of breath, like it was stolen from me. I pick up my other diary, point at it, and something like a shadow enters it and I can no longer stand on my feet anymore. I fall flat on the floor, and silence consumes me again. ”What is happening here?”, says a soft female voice and out of the shadows comes a ghost with raven hair. ”I’m sorry, I just feel so empty, so alone” I said, in the most sorrowful way I could, even though I have never felt this satisfied with myself before. The woman smiles understandingly, ”Is there anything I can help you with, dear?”. 

 

* * *

  
  


Chapter 2

Tuesday, June 27

As I sit here, the words of Professor Slughorn run wildly through my mind. He is the only one who dares to tell me the truth of who I am and where I come from. These words, that are screaming in my head are of the abuse and despair that my mother had endured throughout the years. Even though Marvolo abused my mother, she saw fit that I would inherit his name. I guess it was her way of connecting me to Salazar Slytherin. Her brother also had his share in torturing her, and it was because of them both that she was never able to develop her magical abilities. She was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, how could she not have been great? After all,  she had pure blood running through her veins.  It was them, Marvolo and Morfin who suppressed her abilities. It was their fault that she gave so easily into death. It was their fault that she did not use magic to heal herself. It was their fault that I was left alone, motherless, in this this world. Professor Slughorn recalled that there was a ring that Marvolo treasured more than anything, even his own children. It was the ring of Salazar Slytherin, a family heirloom that is rightfully mine. The ring is in Morfin’s possession, but he does not deserve to wear it, for he is not worthy. I am.

 

Friday, June 39

I now know what I must do, it is time to pay a visit to my Uncle Morfin and demand what is rightfully mine. I have been dreaming of the ring, I must admit, ever since Professor Slughorn first told me of it. The ring is said to be a gold ring with a black stone and with the engraving of what is believed to be the Peverell coat of arms. This ring has sat on the finger of Salazar Slytherin and it rightfully should be mine. It has been passed from generation to generation by the greatest wizards and witches, never once breaking the blood line from the Peverell family to the Gaunt Family. Summer cannot come soon enough. Framing Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets was the right thing to do, or else Headmaster Dippet would have closed Hogwarts. The time has come to prepare myself for this visit, to collect my ring. Professor Slughorn has mentioned that Morfin is very clever in the Dark Arts and that he can even do magic non-verbally. I need to sit and gather my thoughts. I have placed myself on a path, a path that I must now follow to the end.

 

* * *

 

Friday, August 14

Today I visited Morfin. He opened the door, screaming wildly. ”Be away Tom Riddle Snr. before I hex you again”. He had mistaken me for my father. Clearly, time in Azkaban has taken its toll on him. I had to act quickly, so I spoke in parseltongue to tell him who I was. “Oh, the nephew that was born with filthy muggleblood”, he snarled and then continued to describe how my mother was a blood traitor and that she disgraced the family by producing a halfblood with a dirty muggle, this is how he described me. He went on to accuse my mother of being a thief for stealing a family heirloom, the locket. There were other words he used such as disgusting little squib, useless and ignorant. At that moment, I closed my eyes and all the suffering my mother went through pounded in my head. I could no longer think The word  _ Stupefy _ came screaming out of my mouth and suddenly Morfin was lying in front me, motionless. His hand was wrapped around his wand, as if he knew I was going to do something. There the ring was, on his finger. I had to pry open his hand to take the ring off. But, before I Stupefied him, he pointed to a mansion at the top of the hill, all while saying “Tom Riddle up there, I hexed him good. Yes, I did”.

At first, I just stood there looking up at the mansion. In one hand I was holding the ring, which was now mine, and Morfin’s wand in the other. Without thinking, or even knowing why, I walked up the hill to the mansion. Again, not thinking or knowing what to expect, I rang the bell. I had not prepared myself for this moment, I had no clue what I was going to say. Then the door opened, and it was my face, his face, my father’s face. All I could do was introduce myself as my father stood there silently, as if being stunned. Suddenly, he began talking about how he was bewitched by that ghastly looking hag down the road. How one day, he had witnessed her hiding as her brother was cursing at her. He claimed to have only said good day to her as he passed by, and not that he had professed any love towards her. Saying that after a week they had married, and that she had bewitched him somehow. He expressed how humiliated he was after being released from the spell, and how he was disowned by the high-class society, due to marrying that ghastly woman. I was standing there, his son, in front of him and he could not care less. I gave him a chance, I did. I tried.

I told him that my mother had died shortly after giving birth to me, but before dying she saw fit that I would inherit his looks as well as his name.  But, that didn’t stop him. He was full of hatred towards my mother. He never understood who she was or what a great witch she could have been. After all she was a pure blood, Slytherin blood ran through her veins. Just then, I realized, he was a stupid muggle after all, so I turned around to leave. But, behind my back he was cursing at me, saying I should have died with that ghastly hag and how I was an abomination made from nothing good. That is when it happened. I turned around and with Morfin’s wand still in my hand, I said the most powerful unforgivable curse,  _ Avada Kedavra.  _ The curse lit up the mansion and sent my father flying backwards with a great, blinding, powerful force that not only killed him, but unintentionally my Riddle grandparents as well.

I ran back to the Gaunt shack where Morfin was still unconscious from being Stupefied. But before I revived him, I knew I had to cover up what I had done, just like I did when I opened the Chamber of Secrets and Myrtle was killed. So, I decided to frame Morfin by using a false memory charm, so that he believed that he was the one who killed Tom Riddle Snr and his parents. Once I was done altering his memory, I placed his wand back into his hand and left, not even looking back once. 

 

Saturday, August 15

All I could think was how my father, along with Marvolo and Morfin had abused my mother, therefore causing her death. They were all guilty of their part in killing her soul. That is why I need to protect mine, make mine stronger, give me immortality. I will never feel that weakness that my mother felt nor will I feel the burden of death. This path that I am on and must follow to the end will grant me eternal life.

Before leaving the Gaunt shack, I had a thought. I could possibly create another Horcrux. So, I collected my father’s blood in the vial I carry in my coat pocket, for one never knows when an opportunity will arise. I have successfully created one Horcrux, but I need confirmation on doing it multiple times. Yes, making seven, as the number seven is the most powerful magical number known. And, making the ring a Horcrux, with the use of my father’s death, will be a poetic revenge on those who wronged me.

 

***

 

_ Ah, the death of Tom Riddle Sr.. Not so little Riddle’s not so beloved father. You see, after finding out about his father being a muggle, Tom despised the big Riddle and all that he stood for. The plan, of course, was not to kill his father, to even meet his father had not been a part of Tom’s plan. He could not stop himself, though, and so it was very convenient when he could blame the murder of an entire muggle family on his own uncle, all while stealing the ring and with that, opening up the possibility of creating a second Horcrux. However, creating multiple Horcruxes? No such thing had even been attempted before. But if anyone were to try, it would be Tom Marvolo Riddle. _

_ As you might have figured by now, Tom Riddle is a very lonely man. Granted he is the _

_ Prefect and top of his year, he is still very lonely. And it will not come as a surprise that, as a result of all this loneliness, he has come to trust no one, no one but one Professor Slughorn. I know, hideous name, but what is one to do? The not so little Riddle decided there was no harm in asking the professor about Horcruxes, and about the off chance of creating more than one. Of course, the professor suspected something was wrong, what with Riddle giving off a nervous, yet extremely calm presence all the while being awfully quiet. Call him a fool if you will, and I one as well, but I would advise you to take my word for it; the presence we give off is telling, more so than you might think. Give it an extra thought in your coming encounters and you will see what I mean. Nevertheless, I digress. The not so little Riddle already knew it when stepping into Professor Slughorn's office, of course, but now he had gotten half of what he needed. Professor Slughorn had confirmed that one indeed does become immortal when splitting one's soul. Although the professor never confirmed that the soul could be split into seven, he never did deny it, and that was all our not so little Riddle needed. And with that, Tom created his second Horcrux, using his father's death, and the ring he had stolen from Morfin. Now he would continue his plan, and create the remaining four horcruxes. _

  
  


***

  
  


Chapter 3 

 

Wednesday, June 20 

Today shall be the day I finally hear the Grey Lady tell me where she has hidden her mother's, Rowena Ravenclaw's, diadem. All too many days have been filled with flattery and conversations between me and the ghost. Had I not decided the diadem to be of the utmost importance for my quest to become immortal, I would have stopped this charade long ago. However, it is said that the diadem possesses special powers and as such it is worthy the task of holding a piece of my, Lord Voldemort's, soul for all eternity. I must go now to meet with the ghost.

 

*  *  *

 

Thursday, June 21 

Yesterday was a success, of course. I found the ghost in the deserted tower, the one she always reads in. There she was with the proud and haughty look that seems to be edged upon her face; like she somehow is better and smarter than everyone else, than me, Lord Voldemort. Had she not already been dead, I probably would have killed her myself for looking so smug. However, I soon showed her who the smartest person is. After the horrendous amount of courtesy and small talk that seems to be obligatory before one can get to the point with this ghost, she finally seemed willing to open up about the hiding place. "Do you promise to keep it safe on the journey back here, my kind sir?", she asked me several times. "My Lady, a woman of your immense intelligence does not need to ask these questions. I have no doubt in my mind that you are as good a judge of character as you are wise", I said. "Of course, you are correct, kind sir. Very well, I shall tell you the location." 

 

Then she told me the story of how she stole her mother's diadem to heighten her own intelligence, thinking it would help her surpass her mother. Silly girl. All she succeeded to do was get herself killed. Apparently, she left Scotland for an Albanian forest where she hid the diadem in a hollow tree upon hearing the Bloody Baron coming for her. Well, I suppose he was just a Baron then. Somehow, he managed to kill them both, leaving the diadem in that tree, with only their corpses to mark the place. Their bodies will be long gone now, but I know I will find it anyway. It is my destiny to turn the diadem into my third horcrux.  

 

* * *

 

Monday, July 16 

Traveling has become much more convenient since turning seventeen. I no longer have the prying eyes of the Ministry of Magic upon me whenever I perform magic outside of school. Of course, I have never been caught, and had I been, there isn't much anyone can do to withstand my charm.  

 

After I apparated to the outskirts of the Albanian forest the ghost described, the laborious search for the hollow tree commenced. Obviously, a forest changes and grows in numerous directions over the span of nine hundred years, but I would not have anticipated it to have changed quite this much. I was beginning to grow impatient after searching for two weeks without any luck, when I finally stumbled upon the tree. It looked exactly the way the ghost described it, albeit larger, and in the hollow of the trunk was the diadem. Finally! Now, all I have to do is to find someone that can pay the price for my immortality, a life for a life, one might say. It is almost poetic, is it not? Someone else must give their life so that I can live mine forever.  

 

* * *

 

Tuesday, July 17 

I found a peasant in a small village just at the brink of the forest. He lived alone in a small dirty house, with pigs running around everywhere. Disgusting. Dirty. Then again, he is a muggle, so I suppose that is to be expected. I chose him because I found it better for him if I just put him out of his misery. He begged for his life when I cast my spell. It was as if he understood what was going to happen even though he had never seen real magic before, like he could sense my power from where he was standing. It was quick, just one little  _ Avada Kedavra  _ and then it was over. Not that it matters with muggles.  

 

I can't believe I once felt guilty about killing the mudblood Myrtle. It was only a short while ago, but I feel as if I have grown immensely in my power since then, and I feel now, more than ever, that this is the true me. My power is great and strong, and I will do great things in life. Someone as powerful as me should not feel guilty over ridding the world of the impurity that was the mudblood Myrtle. Tonight, I will perform the  _ Anima Mea Immortalem  _ ritual and create my third horcrux, which will mean I am one step closer to eternal life. However, I will need three more.  

 

* * *

 

Friday, July 27 

Yesterday, I came back to Scotland and Hogwarts. I would never admit this to anyone, but I have truly missed Hogwarts ever since the day I graduated. I would like to say that it is because I performed so well while I was here, but there is a different explanation. Yes, of course I performed well here, I graduated best in my year. However, the real explanation is that it is the only place that has ever felt like home.  

 

I decided some time ago, that I would go back to Hogwarts and ask for the position of  _ Defence Against the Dark Arts  _ teacher. I am confident Headmaster Dippet will grant me my wish, since I did graduate with honour. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the Headmaster.

 

* * *

 

Saturday, July 28 

I am outraged! How dare he? Headmaster Dippet simply refused to give me the position. He said I was too young, as if that would matter when one possesses the skills I possess. I tried to reason with him, but he would not budge and told me to reapply in a few years' time. As if that was not scandalous enough, Professor Dumbledore had to intervene. He tried to convince Headmaster Dippet that it wasn't a good idea to let me begin working there. They think I didn't hear, but Lord Voldemort hears everything! 

 

Ever since the first time I met Dumbledore, I have had a nasty feeling that he can see right through me. It is as if those blue eyes of his can pierce their way into the deepest corners of my soul. He's never said anything that would confirm my suspicions before today, but now I know. I heard him tell Headmaster Dippet that he believes I want to harm students who are not purebloods. He said that I use my charm to get what I want and that I should not be trusted. He is correct, of course, but I don’t understand how he can know these things. No one else seems to be able to read me like he does. I truly resent him! It is most troublesome.  

 

* * *

 

Sunday, July 29 

My anger is steadily growing. How dare Professor Dumbledore interfere with my plans? How dare Headmaster Dippet deny me a position that, clearly, is meant to be mine? None other than me could be perfect for the job, I have no doubts about this. They are both filthy, mudblood loving hypocrites, who pretend to have the wizarding communities' best interest in mind while they consciously thwart every attempt of improving it. This can't stand. One day, I will have my revenge. For now, though, I will have to settle with preventing other people from having what is rightfully mine. I will curse the position of  _ Defence Against the Dark Arts  _ teacher! 

 

I have also thought of the perfect place to keep my precious diadem safe. In my sixth year at Hogwarts, I found a room that changes shape to what you need the most at the time. It is the perfect place to leave the diadem. I am confident that no one will find it there, not the students, and not Dumbledore. I will have to wait to hide it, though. Right now, Dumbledore keeps too close a watch over me. He thinks he is so clever. Well, what I wouldn't give to be able to see his face when he learns of his own ignorance.  

 

One day, I will return to Hogwarts victorious and I will show them all, especially Dumbledore, who I really am. I will show him that I have outsmarted him once and for all.  

 

***

 

_ Our not at all little Riddle has lead a busy life. Already having created four horcruxes, he only needed two more in order to have his soul be in seven parts, and therefore have it be immortal, indestructible. The cup and the locket had been easy enough to locate. Especially useful was finding that they were both owned by the same old woman. He had simply killed the old witch and stolen what he needed. Our boy has grown apathetic. From once regretting killing Myrtle, even for a split second, he has now become thoughtless of all but his own wishes and desires. The process is not new to him and creating a Horcrux comes much easier to him than feeling empathy towards another, which to many is quite troublesome. Although I must say, all the Horcruxes and the splitting of his soul has left our once so handsome Riddle, a horrid looking man.  _

_ He has started building an army, our not at all little Riddle has. Death Eaters he calls them.  _

_ Now isn’t that the most befitting of names? These witches and wizards are a gruesome group of mudblood hating supremacists, with a great fondness for the Dark Arts and without a single care for the Wizarding Laws. The Riddle you know has been long gone at this point, I am sorry to say. Our not at all little Riddle is no more that, he is now our dark Lord Voldemort. He is also the reason behind the First Wizarding War, which unfortunately caused the death of a large number of very promising young witches and wizards. He has now learned of the prophecy, which of course will lead to his death, but he does not know that yet. And so, naturally, he tries to stop it.  _

 

***

 

Chapter 4

 

Friday, March 20

The greatest wizard of all time does not concern Himself with the opinion of the Muggles.

I have never been more powerful than now. Yet I am a bit concerned, my loyal subjects have obtained information that could lead to the downfall of the greatest wizard of all time. My will is their law. Terror alone will not keep the fold happy. They rely on feelings, they have families, they have WEAKNESS! Lord Voldemort does not share power. The power obtained by me, is mine and mine alone. Yet, I have concerns.

One of my loyal followers, Severus Snape, recently overheard a conversation between the fool Dumbledore and a muggle loving disgrace for a witch. I would not care about Dumbledore’s meetings, yet, it is what that muggle lover foresaw, that concerns me. A prophecy of Lord Voldemort’s downfall. I will have to deal with this immediately. No one can stand in Lord Voldemort’s way. I cannot be hindered from creating a new world order. Through Severus Snape I have learned that there is a prophecy. Although Severus had one condition for telling me the content of the prophecy. I’m confident that I will learn it in the near future.

 

* * *

 

The prophecy read:  " _ The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... " _

 

_ * * * _

 

Monday, May 25

The prophecy that supposedly leads to my downfall predicts that a boy born in the end of July will be the cause. I am not afraid of an infant boy. I could just kill it. I could just order the killing of all boys born in July. No one can Stand in Lord Voldemort’s way. Me and Severus put a plan in motion to find out who the boy can be. Of course, I have spies within the Ministry of Magic. Based on their information the child who will bring my downfall, is the half-blood boy offspring of James and Lily Potter.

Severus asked me to pardon the boy’s mother. Feelings, love, WEAKNESS. He is sworn to me, why does he defy The Dark Lord… I kill without concern. Severus’s love for a mudblood is a disgrace. I could kill him. The fold need to understand that NO exceptions are to be made. However, since the only thing that matter to me right now is the killing of the Potter boy, I could perhaps let Severus have his way and spare the mudblood for now. Until I choose another time for her to die. As long as the boy dies, I do not concern myself with the mudblood. They will all die eventually. Find them, I need to find them.

 

* * *

 

Thursday, July 23

The Potters have been warned and are keeping out of sight. Who betrayed me? To my knowledge only four people know about this prophecy. Me, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore and that muggle lover. Would Severus dare to betray me? No, we struck a deal. Severus knows that I will kill the boy's mother if he betrays me. This must be Dumbledore’s work, yet I am not sure. I am furious. I kill at random to enforce good behaviour from my subjects. No one is safe. No one can escape me. They never learn, such a pity. I now consider disobedience to be an insult to me and my power. I need to find the Potter scum. I crave the death of the infant boy. Dumbledore thinks he can hide the Potter family. That old fool severely underestimates my power. No one can defy me. My will is adamant.

Wormtail, that useless excuse for a wizard, seems to have befriended the Potter family during his school years. He is weak-minded, and I can surely persuade him to betray them. Then, there will be no opponents to my everlasting reign of terror.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday, September 16

Finally, my plan for getting rid of the boy, that supposedly could stop me, is complete. Wormtail might not be as useless as I thought. He is going to be the Potter family’s secret keeper. Of course, I am going to exploit the weakest point in the Potter family’s protection. The plans are to be set in motion on Halloween. Nothing can stop me now. There is no good or evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it! I am invincible. I am the most powerful. Only I can live forever! I am Lord Voldemort!

When the boy is dead, from that day forth, everyone will put their faith in Lord Voldemort.

 

* * *

 

Saturday, October 31

Tonight is the night. The Potter boy is going to die, all preparations are made. Wormtail has made sure to be alone tonight. I need to seize this opportunity. I will put an end to all doubt that Lord Voldemort is almighty.

Godric’s Hollow, a fitting place for The Dark Lord, the heir of Slytherin, to destroy all hope for my opponents. It is dark and cold. Some kind of suspense in the air. I can feel power flowing through my body. I can feel that this is the boy the prophecy spoke about. I can see the family sitting there, not knowing what’s about to happen. It’s time, why should I wait any longer? Well in the house the boy's father James, tries to fend me off. How could he? Even with a wand, he would be no match for me. Working my way into the nursery. At last I found the boy and his mother. I tell her to move out of the way, after all a deal is a deal. She refuses. I tell her again and again, but she refuses. I will not tolerate disobedience,  _ Avada Kedavra _ … Now, only the boy is left. My wand is pointed towards the boy’s head.  _ AVADA KEDAVRA _ … finally… Wait, something is wrong...

 

* * *

 

_ And this is where our story ends, and another begins. _


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